


No Rest for the Brave

by chiiyo86



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: F/M, Insomnia, Light Angst, Post-Promised Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-28
Updated: 2018-02-28
Packaged: 2019-03-25 06:47:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13828758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chiiyo86/pseuds/chiiyo86
Summary: Happiness can be hard work, but this has never scared you before, right?Ed is perfectly fine; now he only has to convince himself and everybody else of it.





	No Rest for the Brave

**Author's Note:**

> Since I'm on a FMA roll right now, I decided to freshen up two old fics and post them on AO3. This is the second one, loosely related to [To Live and Become](http://archiveofourown.org/works/13828308). Originally beta'd by Evil_Little_Dog.

Ed still has nightmares, but that's when he can sleep. The insomnia is probably what pisses him off the most, those times at night when he stares at the ceiling, at the shadows playing there, a result of the moonlight filtered through tree branches. Ed rages at the inadequacy of his own mind, unable to recognize that he only has reasons for happiness now. Not fucking _fair_ \- or maybe it is, thinking about all the years Al couldn't sleep.

Al sleeps a lot, now, and Ed spends long moments watching him breathe peacefully. It's soothing, and sometimes it lulls Ed to sleep. Sometimes it doesn't, like tonight. When the sun rises, Ed pads quietly downstairs. No one is awake yet, not even Pinako, so Ed makes himself coffee and drinks it on the front steps. The sun is timidly shedding light over the green hills with honey-colored rays and Ed breathes in the pure air. It's quiet out there.

Too quiet, even, and when Ed has finished his coffee, he gets to his feet and goes the kitchen. The sink is full of yesterday's dishes; Ed rolls up his sleeves and starts washing. When he's done, he ties his hair in a ponytail, takes the broom and starts sweeping, pouring all of his restless energy into the task. He's so focused that he doesn't notice when he's not alone anymore.

"Ed? What are you doing?"

Ed looks up to see Winry stand in the doorway, her hair mussed and still wearing her pajamas. She's looking at him with wide eyes. 

"What does it look like?" Ed says, raising the broom like a weapon. "I'm sweeping!"

"Yes, I can see that but…" She draws a chair from the kitchen table to sit on. "It's not like you. What's gotten into you?"

"What, I can't help around the house? If I didn't all I'd hear would be complaints that I do nothing but sit on my ass." Ed rolls his eyes. "I can never win."

Winry snorts. "Oh, I'm not complaining. Keep sweeping to your heart's content. But do you know what time it is? You're not exactly a silent sweeper. I woke up because I heard the ruckus you were making downstairs. If you keep going at it like a mad man, you're going to wake up Al."

"Oh," Ed says, feeling his annoyance deflate. He drops on a chair across the table from Winry. "Sorry."

"It's okay. Did you have any breakfast?"

Ed shrugs. "I made coffee."

Winry clucks her tongue and starts pushing her chair to get up. "You can't live on coffee. I'm going to make you some breakfast."

She makes him some eggs, scrambled just the way she knows he likes it. 

"Thank you," he mumbles when she puts the plate in his hands.

Winry smiles brightly at him and hauls herself on the table to eat her own plate. She's sitting with her legs dangling, her ankles brushing against his thigh. After a moment, she puts her feet in his lap. Ed doesn't say anything and keeps eating, head bent over his plate so his bangs hide the blush on his cheeks. 

Things have been weird with Winry since Al and he have been back. It's not exactly a bad sort of weird, so Ed doesn't know how to address it. Winry keeps doing things like what she's doing right now - strange, clingy, touchy-feely things. She's been like that with Al, in some measure - she hugs him, ruffles his hair or kisses him on the cheek - but it's nothing like what she does to Ed: randomly holding his hand, or leaning against him, or even sitting in his lap. All kind of things that Ed is pretty sure only people who are dating or engaged do, except that from what Ed gathered from Mustang and Havoc, dating involves more going out in fancy restaurants and offering flowers, and they're not doing any of this. They're not doing anything that they didn't before, really, which means that they still squabble a lot over stupid shit.

When Ed stops hearing the clinking of Winry's fork against her plate, he knows that Winry is watching him. She's been watching him a lot, too.

"What?" he says, raising his chin.

"You haven't been sleeping well, have you?" she says.

Ed smiles, as wide as he can without it looking fake. "I'm fine, don't worry." It doesn't stop her from staring at him with an intensity that makes him uncomfortable, so he tries for a little more honesty. "Sometimes I can't sleep. It's not a big deal. I didn't mean to wake you up."

"I'm sure you didn't." Winry sighs, and he wonders what he's done this time to make her look suddenly so sad. "You know, Ed. Things have been going great, lately, but…You have a right to be less than perfectly happy."

"Huh?"

He doesn't have the time to ask her what she means by that, because he hears footsteps going down the stairs, accompanied by the _clonk_ that Ed knows is from Al's crutch.

"Shit," he says, "we woke up Al." Winry grimaces. 

"Morning, guys," Al says, appearing in the doorway. 

"Hey, Al!" Ed and Winry say in unison.

Since Al has gotten his body back, every time he enters a room people look at him with awe in their eyes, like he's some divinity walking in. They can't get over him looking human again. It's funny as hell, to be honest, but Ed has no room for mocking since he's the one who's the most guilty of doing it. He could be head to the cult of Alphonse Reborn.

"Did we wake you up?" he asks his brother.

"Oh, no, don't worry, brother," Al says, sitting down. His eyes wander to where Winry has her feet on Ed but he doesn't say anything, only smirks a little in that annoying way of his.

"Are you hungry?" Winry asks. 

Al's stomach rumbles before he has the time to open his mouth. He grins sheepishly.

"Yes? But I can make myself breakfast, you don't have to-"

"No, don't move," Winry orders, and Al stills. 

She jumps on her feet, almost bouncing. She adores cooking for Al, so much that Ed sometimes thinks that she's going to make his poor brother sick. Fortunately, Al adores eating whatever she makes him, and he's almost always hungry. _And they say I'm the one with an appetite. Go figure._

Winry makes breakfast for ten, so Ed helps himself again and the three of them chatter animatedly until Pinako yells at them for waking her up. It's only 6:30 am.

\---

Later during the day, Ed falls asleep lying down in the grass with a book open on his lap. When he wakes up, he has a headache from the sun and he's disoriented. Lingering bits and pieces of a dream stick with him, but he can't quite remember what it was about. There was a lot of blood and he was running after something, he thinks. Or maybe _from_ something.

He spits out the hair that got into his mouth while he was sleeping, before he pushes himself up and goes inside the house. He calls for his brother, Winry, then Pinako, but only silence answers him. He finds a note written in Al's round, careful handwriting.

 _Brother_ , it says, _we are gone to the market. You'll need to put some cream on those sunburns. Al._

Ed pokes at the skin of his face and indeed it feels tight, almost painful. Ed frowns in irritation, but stops when it pulls at his sensitive skin and makes him wince. Fuck him. It figures that when he manages to get some sleep, he has to catch some lame sunburn out of it. Ed thinks about looking at himself in the bathroom mirror to see the extent of the damage and gauge how much teasing he'll get from Al and Winry, when someone knocks on the door. 

It has to be a neighbor, or maybe a customer for the Rockbells' automails, and Ed sighs before he walks to the door. His face stings and his head pounds; having to be polite is going to be a pain.

It's neither a neighbor, nor a customer. When Ed opens the door, it's to find Riza Hawkeye standing on the doorstep. She's dressed in civilian clothes, a white shirt and a straight brown skirt. There's a pale yellow scarf wrapped around her neck, but it's not enough to hide the edges of her scar. Her hair is down, and Ed can admit to himself that she looks very pretty. It makes Ed feel awkward - it's _Hawkeye_ , for god's sake.

"Hey," he says lamely.

"Hello, Edward," she says. "May I come in?"

"Yeah, of course," he says, stepping back to let her in. "Everyone's gone, they went to the market." He gestures to his face, even though she hasn't said anything about his sunburn. "I fell asleep in the sun."

"You should put some cream on this sunburn," she says, and it makes him laugh.

"I will. Do you want something to drink? Like some tea or coffee or…" He tries to think of what he could offer her. "Water?"

"A cup of tea would be lovely, thank you."

"Have a sit, I'll be back."

Ed puts some water to boil, then goes back to the living room to sit down with Hawkeye. She smiles at him, and he smiles back, feeling some remaining tension pour out of him. He can't pretend to know her very well, but he's always found her presence relaxing. She reminds him of Al, all that gentleness and calm mixed with strength and steely determination, and that makes her company always pleasant. With her there's no weird non-flirting like with Winry or stupid macho posturing like with Mustang. Sitting here with Riza Hawkeye, Ed has nothing to do but _be_. 

"You've started work again?" he asks.

She nods. "Yes. Now that I'm well again, I need to go back to service. I've been absent too long."

"You almost died."

"I know. Still, it's hard to be away when there's so much that needs to be done."

He's sure that she didn't mean it that way, but it makes Ed feel a little guilty, like he's slacking off. He has to remind himself that he _can't_ be a State Alchemist anymore, even if he wanted to.

"How's the colonel?" he asks.

"He's a general, now," she says with a smile.

"General," Ed says, testing the word. "General Bastard. Nah, he'll always be the colonel for me."

She indulges him. "He's all right, I think. We haven't seen much of each other since the Promised Day. He hasn't had a lot of free time."

"Did he send you here?"

"No, Edward. I wanted to come to see how you and Alphonse were doing. But I called him before I left, and he told me to," she deepens her voice, "'tell Fullmetal that I'm enjoying the quiet since he left.' I assumed that it was his way of saying that he misses you."

Ed snorts. "Maybe, with a lot of imagination. He's lucky he has you to translate for him. But I'm not Fullmetal anymore, you tell him _that_."

"Well. I guess you'll always be Fullmetal to him."

Ed chuckles. Oh, yeah, never underestimate Riza Hawkeye. The kettle in the kitchen starts whistling at that moment, and Ed murmurs an apology and goes to prepare the tea.

"So," she says when he comes back with the teapot and two cups on a tray. "How are you and your brother?"

"We're good. Al's doing really well." Just mentioning his brother, Ed can't help but smile. "He eats like four of him and sleeps like a newborn, but he's getting stronger every day. He's following some kind of training regimen Armstrong gave him, with weights and stuff."

"And you? How are you doing?"

Ed feels his smile fade. "I'm okay."

"Just okay?"

"No, I'm fine, there's nothing wrong, really." He feels the weight of her stare on him.

"That nothing is wrong doesn't mean that everything is right either."

"I'm… It's just that I have a little trouble sleeping. Nightmares, but that I'm used to, but also sometimes I can't sleep at all. I don't know what the hell is wrong with me. Everything is _fine_ , damn it."

"Because everything is fine, it doesn't mean that _you_ have to be." Her voice is so gentle that he can't bear to look at her. He feels like a silly child and he's never cared for that particular feeling. "Edward. I told you about the Ishval conflict, didn't I?"

"Yeah, I remember." How could he forget _that_?

"Being there was like being in hell. All we wanted was to go back home, and the ones of us who actually _could_ go back were blessed."

He listens to her, holding his breath. She's talked to him about Ishval before, but it was a somewhat impersonal account of events, where she was talking about others more than about herself. He doesn't really see what this has to do with him, though. 

"Some soldiers left the military after Ishval. I actually know someone who did that. It was the right decision for him, but going back to civil life wasn't easy. He didn't know what do with himself if he wasn't a soldier. He went through some rough times before he opened a restaurant. He's doing well now."

"I was never really a soldier," Ed says. "Not like you and Mustang are."

"Maybe. But you were an alchemist - and now you're not anymore."

"It's not about giving up on alchemy!" 

It comes out a little more intense than he intended, but he's fought so hard to convince Al of this, he doesn't want _anyone_ to have any doubt left about it.

"I know, and it's not what I meant. My point was that you had something you were good at, and you had a purpose, and being deprived of that is hard, no matter that the change is for the better. War is hard, living through horrible things leaves a mark on you that you have to live with. Edward, it doesn't make you weak or weird if you have some trouble adjusting. Happiness can be hard work, but this has never scared you before, right?"

Her smile is encouraging, but Ed is feeling a little too numb at the moment to smile back.

"I think tea is ready," he says. 

He pours them two cups. The tea is very hot, so they have to blow on it before they can drink. They sip it in silence until they hear voices from outside signaling that Al, Winry and Pinako are back home.

"Mustang is going to want to know about this visit," Hawkeye says. "What shall I tell him?"

Ed thinks about it and grins. "Tell him he has to hurry the hell up if he wants his money back." She raises an eyebrow. "He'll get it."

"All right, I'll tell him."

The voices are getting closer. "Uh, Hawkeye," he says. He starts scratching his nose, but stops because it hurts his burned skin. "Thank you."

"You're welcome. And, please, call me Riza."

Ed smiles. "Yeah, okay."

\---

Riza stays for dinner. When she leaves, she promises to call soon, to make Mustang call. Ed knows they're probably going to be too busy for social calls, but it's still a nice thought. He goes out for a walk just before dusk, and without any conscious input from him his feet take him to the cemetery and his parents' graves.

He sits cross-legged in front of them and stares at the names, his mind blessedly empty. _Trisha Elric - 1878-1904. Van Hohenheim - 1915_. He feels very tired and hair keeps sticking to his face because of the cream Al made him put on to soothe the burns. The air is cooling and his right shoulder aches, the way it still does sometimes. All he wants is to fall asleep and not dream.

He hears Al come from far away; there is no mistaking the slow but determined pace. Al drops next to him and says, "I knew I'd find you here."

 _Amazing, given that I didn't even know where I was going,_ Ed thinks, but he's used to the idea that his brother knows him better than he knows himself.

"Winry's worried about you, brother." 

It's Al's way of saying that he's worried too, even though Ed has forbidden him to focus on anything but his recovery. Granted, his brother hasn't let Ed forbid him anything in a very long time.

"I'm fine," Ed says, his voice muffled because his face is pressed against his knees. It doesn't sound very convincing so he adds, "I'm just thinking."

"What are you thinking about?"

_Nothing. Everything._

"Stuff. I'm not used to a life this quiet anymore, and my mind's running in circles."

"Do you think about alchemy?"

Al's very quiet voice makes Ed glance at him. Al is looking down, picking methodically at blades of grass.

"Al," Ed says. "We talked about this."

"Yeah, yeah, I know." Al sighs. "It's just that, I know that you haven't been sleeping well, and sometimes you shut down and I don't know what you're thinking, so I can't help but wonder if maybe you-"

Ed looks at him in surprise. He didn't have any idea that it looked that bad to the people around him; he thought he was doing a good job at being as happy as he should. Does Al think he spends his time brooding about his lost alchemy?

"I do miss alchemy, sometimes," Ed says, thinking he owes Al that much. "But I don't regret the choice I made, and not just because it got you back." He's sure of that, surer than he's ever been of anything, but he doesn't know how to put it into words. He shakes his head. "I don't know how to explain it better."

"Okay."

It's not exactly an 'okay' of acceptance but it'll do for the moment. Ed can't really blame Al for feeling guilty; he would be a hypocrite if he did. He has never been so good at letting go. They both remain silent for a long moment. Al is playing with the grass, caressing it like he would pet an animal, and Ed observes him from the corner of his eye. The last rays of the sun going down make his brother's blond hair shine, and Ed marvels once more at the sheer miracle of Al. His smile, his frown, his pout, the way his eyes crinkle when he laughs, or darken when he's worried. Ed is ashamed of how much he's gotten used over the years to the armor's metal face and body, to always having only half of what makes Al, _Al_.

"Did you think sometimes, when you were in the armor, that it would have been better to have died that night?" Ed asks suddenly.

He realizes as soon as he says it how morbid it sounds, and instantly wants to take it back. Al blinks, looking bemused. 

"Huh, what?" he says. "Don't tell me you're still thinking about that?"

"Ah, no, never mind. It's a stupid question."

Al's mouth purses, and at the look in his eyes Ed knows he's going to get an honest answer. It wasn't something Al would have been willing to talk about much when he was still in the armor, but Ed guesses that now this is all behind them, some things aren't as taboo anymore. He's not sure he still wants to hear about it, though. 

"I won't say that it wasn't bad," Al starts slowly, like he's weighing his words. "Or that I would have been willing to stay like that forever. Sometimes at night I had… very dark thoughts." He half-smiles, like he wants to make up for the fact that Ed's heart feels like it's trying to squeeze itself to death in his chest. "But I've never really wanted to _die_. When it had just happened, and you were so hurt that we thought maybe you weren't going to make it, back then I don't know… If you had died, I don't know what I would have done."

Ed swallows. "Yeah." 

He wants to run away from that conversation, but he's the one who asked for it. Made his bed and all that. 

"But all those years," Al continues, "all the places we've been to, the things we've seen, the people we've met; I don't regret any of it. It's what makes me who I am today. If I had died five years ago, I wouldn't be here now. And most of all, Ed - for someone so smart, you're very stupid sometimes, and I don't know how I put up with you, but I'll never not be grateful for _you_."

"Um." Ed doesn't know what to say. _I'm grateful for you too_. "Thanks, I guess."

Al smiles. "You're very welcome, brother. Are you going to be okay?"

Ed notices how he doesn't ask if he _is_ okay. "Yes. Yes, I will be."

"Can we go back home before it's too late and Winry gets mad at us?"

It's only now that Ed realizes that the sun has sunken behind the hills and the light has dimmed enough that it's hard to make out his brother's features. 

He scrambles hurriedly on his feet. "Oh, right. Fuck, how long have I been out? You need me to help you get up?"

Al nods, and Ed holds out a hand for him to grab and haul himself up. They start walking, Ed instinctively letting his pace match his brother's. When they get to the Rockbells' house, it's almost night, and Winry is waiting for them with a scold and some hot cider. 

Ed thinks he could get used to this.


End file.
